The world became fire and water.
Kaelen fought. That was all he knew—fight, survive, protect. He flew Ash through clouds of smoke, firing arrow after arrow at the aircraft that swarmed like angry insects. He dove into the ocean, swimming with the Metkayina, attacking ships from below. He climbed onto burning decks and cut down soldiers with his obsidian knife.
Seri was everywhere—on her ikran, in the water, on the platforms. She moved like death itself, her bow never missing, her knife never still. They fought back to back, side by side, together in a way that went beyond words.
The humans kept coming.
For every ship they sank, two more appeared. For every aircraft they downed, three more took its place. Thorne had thrown everything at them—thousands of soldiers, dozens of ships, an endless tide of metal and fire.
"We can't hold!" Rial screamed, her face black with smoke. "There are too many!"
"Then we fall back!" Kaelen grabbed her arm. "To the reef! We make our stand there!"
They retreated, fighting every step of the way. The reef was their last defense—a maze of sharp coral and hidden passages that the humans couldn't navigate. If they could reach it, they might survive.
Might.